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Parasite is the third part of The Underground series

Chapter 24 of 29

When the Hammer Falls

"Son of a bitch! What just happened?" Clark's angry voice demanded to know on the other end.

"We think she used the satellite!" Alias yelled, driving the point home. "Can you confirm the code was sent?"

"All fire-teams, focus on the crane, take out the operator!" He heard Clark's static-laced voice reply.

Looking over Isis's car, pockmarked with bullet holes and shattered glass, he watched the various TAC agents stop, turning around in their black combat uniforms, OCB in gold letters across their backs, and black balaclavas covering their faces. Taking up aim, their guns exploded with fire, sending lead projectiles up at the operators cabin of the crane; sparks firing off as lead scraped the steel superstructure. The operator, a combatant as his assault rifle gave him away, jumped and flinched as bullets ripped through his cabin, and his body. Falling over in a bloody heap, Alias watched him fall onto the controls. The crane jerked to a stop, the momentum of the container caused it to swing outward, then back. The crane suddenly switched directions, moving back towards the docks and away from the freighter.

"Clark, can OCB confirm the arming code was sent?" Alias asked, gunfire still echoing around Trilby and Alias.

"Standby..." He heard Clark request, followed by silence on his end. "Damn it! Command confirmed the code! She's armed the damn thing alright!"

"That bomb goes off, it won't matter who wins here..." Trilby commented, looking up at the out of control crane, spinning slowly around in a circle. If he could just get inside the container, he could deactivate the bomb. The OCB had Mihailov's men, and it was only a matter of time before they surrendered. None of them were in control of the bomb; the real threat.

Alias turned to Trilby, pulling his earpiece and offering it to him. "Clark's on the other end!"

Trilby fired off a few rounds, then retracted behind the car. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You and Clark need to keep those bastards off my back!" Alias replied, offering up his M4 as it was too much weight to have to drag with him. He quickly patted down Leigh's unconscious body, pulling both his pistol she had taken earlier, along with his cellphone, securing both on his person. "Stay here with your wife!" Alias ordered, pulling Trilby closer by his shirt collar, so he could hear him. "I just gave you Leigh back! Don't fuck up all my hardwork!" He yelled, then popped up, jumping across the hood of the car.

Feet moving faster than they ever had in his life, Alias chased after the spinning shipping container. Eyes focused up at the slowly rotating crane, pulling the shipping container along, Alias mentally projected it's trajectory. As the rusty container's shadow passed above him, Alias realized he needed to be higher.

Running deeper into the wharf through the maze of cargo containers that were stacked like a child's building blocks, waiting to be loaded, Alias found his means to get to his bomb. Jumping and latching onto the top of another container, stacked atop another, Alias, slowly climbed the high stack. His muscles burned as he pulled himself upward. Each of the containers had metal latches attached to their double doors he used as steps for his makeshift latter. However, these latches were thin and small, intended only to be used for opening and closing the containers. A flash of alarm shocked his body as the rubber sole of his boot slipped on the slick latch, causing his whole body to drop sharply. Paws secured on the latches above him, he quickly pulled himself against the metal container, and worked his foot to find something stable. Half way up, eyes looking downward, Alias could easily see all the OCB fire teams moving about, even Mihailov's members on the deck of their freighter. Feeling his insides squirm, he couldn't help but wonder why high places were always involved with this job.

Almost to the top of the stack, a loud whipping noise, followed by a steel wall racing over him, almost sent Alias backwards over the edge and onto the ground. Paws quickly snapping to something solid, he clung to the top container as the helicopter of Mihailov's passed dangerously close. The wake of the violently disturbed air current blew harshly against him, making his strenuous efforts to pull his body atop the riveted container even more difficult.

As his muscles relaxed from the difficult climb, Alias knew he was about to piss his body off again. He had no time to rest; that dirty bomb was set to blow. Even if a dirty bomb was considered by most experts to be of a lesser danger to the public in comparison to other weapons of mass destruction, Alias was constantly reminded of his own involvement in this affair. Furthermore, for the public, yes this was a lesser danger. For Alias, Trilby, Clark, and Mick, it was over if that thing dispersed it's radioactive material into the atmosphere. The only thing they would have left to look forward to was cancer and dying slowly of radiological poisoning. Getting to his feet, Alias watched the small, black helicopter pivot swiftly in the air, bright navigational light blinding him temporarily. His boots were slamming against the hard steel of the shipping crates, running parallel to the path the renegade crane toting the bomb was taking.

Angling it's spinning rotors downward, the sleek helicopter swooped low overhead like a bird of prey attacking a lowly land animal. Explosions of gunfire from above, followed by the sharp plinking of metal at his heels, Alias had to jump clear of it's skis as it blasted by him. Again, Alias pushed off the palms of his paws, snapping back to his feet and taking off once more. The shipping container with the bomb was now only a few feet ahead, slowly drifting away. Worse, Alias was running out of container to run along. Every step took him closer and closer to the edge where only thin air awaited him. Hearing the helicopter change angles, spinning around, Alias knew it was do or die... literally.

Dead sprinting the rest of the way down the container, Alias mentally guessed at the amount of force it'd take to push off the container. With every second, the runaway bomb moved further from him. With every second, Alias heard the menacing rotors grow closer and closer. With every second, the bomb's probability of going off were increasing exponentially. Again, the helicopter's machine gun fire ripped down the top of the container, taking small, but fast steps that were catching up to him. With only a few feet left before he reached the edge of the stacked shipping containers, Alias pushed as hard as he could off the steel surface, boots leaving solid ground and meeting nothing but air.

Doubling over as his midriff crunched against the top edge of the renegade shipping container on the end of the crane, Alias remained fixed in that position for a moment as his sudden weight threw the entire container off balance. Then he felt his whole body being pulled downward harshly by gravity as it tipped like a seesaw, his end angled downward. Legs kicking outward, Alias desperately tried to locate something to place a foot down upon. Again his body lurched downward as he lost grip. His fingers curled around the edge of the container, body pressed against it's closed doors. Remembering that these containers were designed to be universal, Alias strained his neck around his arms, which were the only things keeping him from falling several stories and smacking the pavement. Sure enough, he found the same metallic latches that kept all the container's doors locked. Working quickly while holding himself on by one paw, Alias flipped both latches on the door he was clinging to, unlocking the container.

Still in motion, the laws of physics were underscored as the door swung open from it's unbridled momentum. Alias, throwing it's balance off, swung outward with the door, crushing his body between the heavy steel door and the side of the containers. With one foot, he pushed off the side, swinging back around, and slammed the door shut. Scaling down it, Alias steadied himself against the second door, still latched and secured. Seeing inside, Alias quickly noting the various flashing red lights, like the eyes of winking demons, from the detonators attached to the conventional explosives that would be used to send the radioactive material into the air.

Whatever his reasons were for moving his leg at that very moment probably saved his life. Scaling over to the door that was still locked, Alias kicked the free door to the side, watching it open fully. As soon as his leg moved from the door, a loud bang followed by a sizable hole in the steel nearly made the fox fall. Clinging onto the locked door for dear life, Alias looked over his shoulder to see Mihailov's chopper hovering as one of his cronies with a sniper rifle took aim... directly at him.

He had no time. No time to think, or consider his options, or even make a judgment. Chances of surviving a fall from this height weren't good, no matter how "special" Alias's body may be. He knew this. Still, when one looks down the end of a barrel seeing the darkness of eternity at its end, decisions become incredibly simple. His paws went lax on his grip, and boots slid off the latches supporting his weight.

The next sensation his senses registered was falling; watching the container with the bomb move further and further away.

The sensation after that was nothing close to feeling as free as falling did. The next sensation was that of every organ in your body crushing against your back, and your bones bending and pushing back against them. Facing the sky, Alias had no clue what his landing would be like. He only knew that it wasn't going to be pretty or gentle. There was a hollow bang as his body smashed against uneven metal, popping him back into the air like a rubber ball. Again, he fell further, this time landing on the even more unforgiving surface of the concrete wharf, this time nearly face planting.

Had Alias been a cartoon, he was sure he would have left one of those body imprints on the ground. As it happened, he didn't, but the pain that consumed his mind swore otherwise. Breathing had taken on a difficult burden as it seemed that red hot embers burned in his lungs, glowing brighter with heat and pain as he introduced oxygen. Coming down off his shock, Alias's mind quickly reminded him of what was at stake.

Dirty bomb... about to explode... might as well be your fault...

This time, getting to his feet was an excruciating task. He had dropped nearly four stories from the container with the bomb, bounced off the top of a single resting container, and landed painfully on the wet wharf. Again, there was no reason Alias should be getting to his feet. He should be a stain on the pavement the dockworkers needed to hose away. As his body made him aware of every nerve ending's pain, Alias almost wished that's how he ended up. He was not so lucky. Being alive meant he still had to go after that container... with the bomb.

Standing up proved to be a mistake, as his already tormented leg muscles collapsed, and Alias fell against the resting container he'd bounced off the top of earlier. Breathing choppy and painful, Alias rested his head on the corner of the crate, eyes drooping in pain mixed with the exhaustion of not sleeping for so many nights, and arms wrapped around his livid ribs. Before him lay a magnificent spectacle. The black, armored clad of OCB TAC agents littered the dock, explosions of concussion grenades and fire fighting went up into the night sky like a fireworks show gone wrong. Ribs aching, possibly broken, ear still feeling like it had been ripped from his head, and bleeding thigh all caused tiny black spots to cloud his vision, Alias realized for the first time he could stand back and watch a conflict play out. Again, he tried to stand, but felt his legs quake under his own weight. The leg Mihailov filleted earlier was still bleeding, staining the black cargo pants he wore, but the cut wasn't deep. Just painful. As he watched the exotic dance of the TAC agents and Mihailov's men in combat, Alias's drooping eyes studied the sight, and a profound thought suddenly hit him. In all our boasting, in all our poses and lies we'd let ourselves believe, this was probably the worst delusion society had ever pulled on itself. In all our advancements, in all our claims to be more civilized than how we were in the dark ages, what proof of this progress did society have?

The only thing we'd perfected was war.

War. His war. He was at war. The Invisible War. He'd told Trilby earlier, it was fight or die. Those were his options, and it would have been so much easier to fall on his weary back and let fate take control...

...but Alias didn't believe in fate.

Paws wrapping around the corner of the shipping container he'd landed on, the black fox pulled himself to his feet. Looking outward, the crane had made a full revolution on its axis and was now heading straight for him once more. The helicopter buzzed around overhead, the tall stacks of containers around Alias gave him enough cover that the sniper had no visual of him. Taking down that chopper wasn't his concern, or at least not at the moment.

Coughing harshly, feeling his muscles burn and convulse painfully, Alias just chose not to think about his actions. It was a weird, ghostly, cold feeling. Heart pounding through his temples and legs burning in excruciating pain, Alias charged into the fog of war. Dressed similarly to the TAC operatives, Mihailov's men quickly found the sprinting fox as a target and aimed for him. Explosions and concussion waves attacked his body, bullets whizzed by him at speeds incalculable to the naked eye, but all that was at the back of his mind. The madness, the death, the violence wasn't there in Alias's mind. Neither was the pain he knew resided in his body. Body pumping out every ounce of adrenaline he had in his system, Alias rocketed through the combat zone, and out the other side. Had Alias believed in such a thing as divine intervention, he would have been sure that could be the only explanation as to why he could charge a fire fight, and live to tell about it.

As the crate slowly passed over Alias for the second time, his focus was before him. The way the shipping containers on this section of the wharf had been stacked created a stair-step like effect. Each time one of the stacks would have an additional container atop it, starting with a single one on the ground. Drugged by his own body, the adrenaline rush pushed Alias's physical capabilities to the limit. Jumping, his fingers latched onto the top of the first crate as he ran alongside the container with the bomb; crane still making slow revolutions as the dead operator was still leaning on the controls. His boots thumped hard on the uneven surface of the shipping container's roof as he ran alongside, trying to get back to a higher point. Again Alias jumped as he reached the next stack of containers, pulling himself higher; a throbbing, burning, ache in his ribs. Unfortunately, Alias soon realized that the stair-step effect ended only three units upward, lacking a forth to put him even with his target. His container on the end of the crane was close enough that Alias could simply reach out and touch it, but it was nearly two feet above his head and again, he was running out of room to chase it.

Again, choosing not to think and simply act, Alias launched his body into the air... and watched as his face passed by the open door of the container, falling downward.

Tendons in his arms pulled and stretched painfully as his fingers caught the lip of the floor of the bomb's container, securing him by his two paws. Arms already a mess of pain from earlier, Alias pulled against the floor of the container as if he were doing a chin-up exercise. Teeth gritting as his forearms burned and biceps felt as if they were on the verge of snapping, he got one arm secured inside, only to have a cold fear wash over him as the air was suddenly disturbed violently around him. Craning his neck to see over his shoulder, Alias watched helplessly as Mihailov's helicopter gracefully hovered only a few feet back. A sniper perched in it's wings with a large round scope on his weapon. Having no one behind the controls, the shipping container suddenly crashed against another stack. The sudden lurch caused Alias's arms to lose grip once more, and again he found himself dangling off the ground by his fingers, twisting in the wind, boots desperately kicking, attempting to find something solid. This time, his fingers refused to let go. It didn't take a genius to figure out another fall like earlier would probably kill him. He'd rather die hanging from this damn crate than watching fallout coat his limp body. Alias's eyes widened as the sniper pulled his bolt back, loading a single round into the chamber, ready to put a hole through Alias's head.

But by God, if this was the way Alias was going out then he wasn't going to be quiet about it! Right arm supporting him against the renegade container, his left wrapped around the outside of his body, fingers meeting the handle of his pistol and pulling it. Already cocked and loaded, Alias's thumb flipped the safety off and leveled his weapon with his shoulder. Aiming as best he could with his left paw, the helicopter slowly rotated around the flying fox and kept it's bulletproof glass towards him. Like a small cannon, Alias squeezed the trigger of his pistol, letting the explosion from the barrel send the lead harmlessly against the armored machine. The black fox focused hard, attempting to make his shots count. For as soon as his pistol was dry, the sniper could take his sweet time putting Alias in his sites.

As his last round exploded into the night, without warning, the entire helicopter was engulfed in flame, and Alias couldn't really see to know what had just happened. Tale of the machine snapping off, the helicopter quickly spun around in quick, small circles, out of control. Flames and smoke bellowing from it's chassis, Alias watched as it got too close to a stack of steel containers, causing the thin rotors to shatter as they smashed against them. Having nothing left to keep it air-born, the helicopter crashed against the cement ground, gasses like round pillars of fire exploding from it's remains.

Wondering who to thank for saving his balls, Alias looked around, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Looking down on his right, Alias saw a small figure, a mink, holding a smoking RPG launcher over his shoulder. Impeccable timing.

Mick Stallard... Alias thought to himself, feeling of relief washing over him. You're a beautiful son of a bitch!

Hanging from the underside of the container, Alias's mind was quickly brought back to what he was doing. Using his momentum and swinging like a kid would hanging from the brach of a tree, Alias's boots pushed off against the bottom of the container with enough force that when he swung backwards he did a small backflip inside it, and slammed with painful satisfaction against the floor.

Again crawling to his feet, Alias scrambled over to the control unit of the bomb. Reaching into a side pocket on his pants, Alias pulled out his phone, and redialed the last number. At this point, there was really only one person he could call who could help him.

"Hello?" A feminine voice answered.

"Jenna!" Alias spoke frantically, opening the case of the control unit. Around him a host of tiny red lights flashed, showing that the individual detonators were armed.

"Alias! How'd it go? Did you find Openshaw?" She asked, under the assumption this operation was over. With her leg on the mend, Jenna had stayed behind on this one, but with her phone near by. That decision on her end could very well save Alias's life.

"Listen!" He barked, cutting her off, not answering any questions. "I'm sitting on about a thousand pounds of plastic explosives! You've got the Blackwell! How do I disarm this damn bomb?"

"Jesus Christ, why are you trying to disarm it?" She asked, sounding confused. "Doesn't OCB have people for that? And why the hell are you calling me?"

"The code, Jenna! Or there won't be enoughleft of me to piece back together!" He yelled into his phone, hysterically.

"Right, right!" She replied, tone taking a frantic quality. "Just give me a minute..."

Looking down at the LED timer, his heart squeezed as one minute turned over to fifty-nine seconds at that very moment.

"I don't have a minute!"

"Mick left the schematics on the Blackwell! I'm looking at them right now!" Jenna's voice quickly replied. "Just pull the keycard! That should stop the timer!"

Dropping his phone from his ear, Alias's eyes scanned the control unit, and found the slot with the card. Not having to be told twice, Alias quickly pressed a black button to the side of the slot, ejecting the card.

Forty-eight seconds turned to forty-seven.

"Goddamn it!" Alias cursed savagely at his luck. "It didn't work!"

"What?" Jenna cried out in confusion over the phone. "That's impossible! That's what it's telling me to do for emergency deactivation!"

"Isis must have rigged it, or the satellite overrode the card. I don't know!" Alias stole a glance down at the timer. "Thirty-seven seconds!" He said firmly into the phone. "Jenna, you still have thirty-seven seconds to figure something out, or I'm dead; along with a lot of other people!"

Alias watched the seconds tick as Jenna spluttered for words. "Just get out of there, Alias! Cracking another code like that in less than a minute?" Panic had formed in her voice. "I can't-"

"You have to! You're all I've got!" He shot back, emphasizing how critical her part was right now. Alias also knew she was probably on the verge of panic at this point, and if her focus was frayed, the possibility of her making a mistake increased. "Look..." Alias replied, fear of failure still eating at his soul, however he forced a much calmer tone on his voice. Yelling at her would do no good. "Jenna... you can do this." He said confidently. "I know you can! You have got to find another way to stop this thing!"

Thirty seconds.

"Jesus..." He barely heard her hoarse voice say.

The silence on the other end seemed to last longer than thirty seconds. Eyes staring at the cold numbers ticking downward, Alias felt his chest grow tight as reality came crashing down around him. In his mind's eye, he could see here sitting there at the Blackwell, typing frivolously onto it, reading the digital jargon like a foreign language she knew and could translate into english. Jenna could do this; she had to. His life depended on her.

"Is the number pad still active?" Jenna's voice broke her silence.

Looking down at the control unit, Alias pressed one of the numbers. Sure enough the LED changed from a countdown to a single blinking asterisk. "Yes! It is!" Alias stated, feeling his spirits rise.

"Okay..." Her voice sounded shaky as Alias cleared the numbers to start fresh. Jenna knew their lives were in her paws and everyone's future was riding on her shoulders. "Type: six... two... zero... eight... eight. Don't forget the second eight! Six, two, zero, eight, eight; try that!"

"Try it?"

"Yes!" She nearly screamed into the phone. "Type it in!"

Fingers trembling with fatigue and uncertainty, Alias mashed down that number sequence on the pad, watching as blinking asterisks filled in for the concealed numbers.

Fifteen seconds.

Either it worked or it didn't. Either Jenna had found a deactivation code, or she hadn't. Either he would live past tonight, or he wouldn't. Either he died in a fiery explosion or he didn't... for tonight at least. Time almost out, Alias realized he had nothing left to hold onto. Eyes clamping shut, his finger crashed down on the return key.

There was a long, loud, shrill beep. Then nothing.

Cautiously, one eye opened, reaffirming everything was still there and not a cloud of radioactive dust. The second eye opened slowly as well, looking around the boxy container and the piles of plastic explosive surrounding him. The LED timer was still, holding at eleven seconds until detonation. Even the flashing demonic red lights of the detonators had gone dark; neutral.

A sound escaped Alias's lips that he couldn't even identify. It sounded like a sigh, cry of relief, and noise of gratitude all mashed into one. It escaped his lips like a convict during a jailbreak; it just came out. Dropping the phone, and his body down against the container in exhaustion. Alias now clearly heard his throbbing pulse in his head, beating hard and fast. Like a title-wave of emotion, the sudden realization of how close he had come to death at this moment in his life washed over him. Adrenaline subsiding, Alias's mind began reliving every time tonight he could, and probably should, have been killed. It was only now, now that the bomb was deactivated and the event was over, that he realized how panicked he'd been, how much fear about his life ending he felt, and how grateful he was that he was still breathing. Maybe Alias wasn't as ready for death as he always assumed...

"Hello? ... Hello?"

His ears twitched as he caught the small voice at his side. Slowly, his paw found the plastic shell of his phone, raising it to his ear. "Jenna Carrington..." Alias spoke breathlessly into the phone, feeling as if he had just completed the longest marathon of all time. "...I will bear your children..."

"What does that even mean?" He heard her cry out desperately, almost sounding like she was in tears, unsure of what had just happened on the end of the line she couldn't see.

A gentle smile slowly formed over Alias's muzzle as he realized it was finally over. Regardless of how an operation went, there was almost a satisfaction when it was all said and done.

"Contact Trilby..." Alias said quietly into the phone. "Tell him, I could use a lift down... He'll know what I'm talking about..." He paused, looking out the open door of the shipping container, watching the harbor spin lazily around as the crane continued its endless rotation. "Oh yeah..." He remembered. "Jenna..." he said quietly into the phone, almost unable to hear his own voice, "...you did good tonight."

There was absolute silence on the other end. "I... did?"

Exhaling whatever stress was still left within the fox, Alias nodded to the cold shipping container. "I'll see you soon." Thinking for a moment, Alias chuckled darkly. "I really hope that damn doctor is worth all this..."